Malevolence
by ArmsofSorrow
Summary: "Varus- A medical term for inward joint deformity. May also be used to refer or be applied to an individual that suffers from a broken set of innards, extremely painful and twisted awry. " His decision has cost him his village, his family and his humanity. The hatred residing in him grows stronger by the day, but this doesn't bother him, for he has only one goal: Make Noxus pay.
1. A Touch of Hatred

" _Varus-_

 _adjective var·us \ˈver-əs\_

 _1 : A medical term for inward joint deformity. The term may also be used to refer or be applied to an individual that suffers from a "broken" set of innards, cramped, extremely painful and twisted awry. "_

 _— varus noun_

Agony. Writhing pain. A familiar yet outlandish burning sensation was overtaking him from the lower regions of body. His entire body was shaking, and that was putting it delicately. No, a far more better term to describe the state of that body at that time would be that it was _quaking_. His mind told him to scream, but his lungs were failing him. All his breath was drawn from him the instant he touched the dark- purplish ember he had sought to bulwark for all eternity. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was barely keeping him conscious, as the alien flame clawed its way into his flesh, and soon scorched into his innards, finally settling its thorny thistles deep into his body. Dark energy surged through his bloodstream, soon fueling a burning anger. It drove him insane, and he whipped his head back in torment, letting out a soundless scream. Then.. Light. The pain momentarily halted, and he fell on his knees, almost wailing at the fact he was able to move them again after losing control over them previously. His blurry vision cleared up, and the act also seemed to make him regain his sense of reality. He was stunned, exhilarated and heaving heavily from the process. He rested his head on the crystal floor of the temple and closed his eyes. When he opened them he saw what he had become in the reflection of the floor. His eyes were.. Glowing... Filled with a quaint light shining bright yellow. It seemed to have cracked his face his little, expanding their presence to a small spot covering his eye- lids and cheeks (albeit slightly). He touched them with his hands, as if trying to check if this change was all real. It was, and it was then that he noticed the glowing sigils carved into his arms by the ritual. He couldn't read any of it, their tribal tattoo- like pattern mystified him. He decided to pay no further attention to them. His left arm seemed to be considerably more afflicted than his right arm. He wrapped it in the cloth he was wearing on his shoulders to stop them from blinding him and reflected on the event that had just taken place. However, he wasn't scared, nor was he angry with himself. He had changed. And he had acknowledged it. Having accepted this new host into his body, he confidently rose, picking up his bow, which he had dropped on the floor. As soon as his fingertips touched even the slightest surface of the equipment he felt pain overtake him once again. This time however it was less imposing as it was before. His eyebrows fumbled into a deep frown, causing a vein to pump up on the side of his forehead. He gritted his teeth to the point where he was afraid he would bite through his jaw and endured the trial of pain. A corrupted flow of energy was entering the bow through his arm, and right before his eyes he saw the tool forged by mortal hands alleviate to heights he had never witnessed before. The process ended with a blinding flash and one last surge of misery rinsing through his body. It was time to wipe those Noxian scum from the face of the earth. And he would eradicate every single one of them.

With this body. With this bow, and as long as his mortal form would last.

He turned his back on the pedestal and its extinguished flame and ascended from the pit, extending his gaze to the Noxian encampment on the horizon. For now, these miscreants would have to sate his thirst for blood, but first, he had to do something.

The sun was already on its way down when he reached the gates of his village, or what was left of it.

Some of the flames pestering the bigger structures were still present in the form of embers, but most of the rampaging flares had been smothered. He rubbed his temples. The stench surprisingly didn't bother him anymore, but was he really surprised? No. He had changed now. The streets were littered with corpses, and crows were plaguing the corpses like a swarm of termites. Blood, gore and bodily fluids painted the previously serene streets of his homestead in the colors of death and destruction. The archer had spent many hours here earlier that day, searching for survivors.

He had found none.

In the rage that had consumed him after that he had ran up the mountain, to the sacred pit he had protected with all his might earlier, the pit that he was bound to by duty. Now his duty was no more, and he had become intertwined with the hellish flame that was to never be utilized.

Walking up the oh- so familiar alley to one of the higher stationed abodes in the village (a visible reminder which displayed how much influence a villager had) Varus realized he had reached his destination.

The mutilated body of his youngest in the doorway, the bruised and raped figure of his wife in the garden and the corpse of his eldest, who died with a weapon in hand near the entrance. He picked up his eldest son and put him over a shoulder and then carefully picked up his youngest. He put them down against a wall in the garden and went to pick up his wife. He reached her corpse. It was horrifying. Prints of rough fingertips on her breasts and near her crotch. Bite marks all over her body. It filled him with sorrow. He removed and tore off a large part of his toga and covered her up with it. It was then he noticed that she was clenching something in her hand. A medallion. It was her gift to him when they married, as was the villages custom. He had returned it to her just before he left to defend the temple, with a promise he would return to her side.

It held another promise now.

He buried their bodies on top of a little hill that stretched out over the valley, looking at the makeshift graves he said his final goodbyes and turned his back to them. His tears from earlier that day had turned into flexed muscles and an ever growing hatred. Noxian scum. The Noxian encampment wasn't far from here. He would eradicate them all. He clasped the medallion around his neck when he felt the thorns in his body throb with excitement at the emotion of hatred. He had to feed his new host.

* * *

The moon was out in full glory that night and the noxian's were celebrating their victory. Two drunk guards were busy with their frenzied talking, so busy in fact that they didn't notice the enemy blatantly walking up to them.

Varus had hidden his illuminating spots as best as he could, but he could do nothing about his eyes. His visage resembled a predator approaching their prey, he _was_ a predator approaching his prey. His footsteps slowed, and he silently nocked an arrow from his quiver. He had brought enough to wipe out an entire battalion's worth of soldiers. He assumed his position and drew back his bow, pointing it at one of the guards. Though the action initially went unnoticed, one of the drunkards did notice him, clasping his unsheathed weapon weakly and slurring out a unconfident "H- haltttt!".

It was for naught. Varus released quicker than they could draw their swords, and a second later two glowing arrows reinforced with energy from his bow shot forward. The first punctured the enemy guards jaw, nailing him to the post he was leading on. Dead. The second one struck his comrade in the face, right through the eye socket. Also dead on the spot. It was time. Varus barged into the encampment. A couple of Noxians sitting near a fire soon spotted him, but they too perished in a flurry of arrows, but not before alerting the entire encampment of Varus's presence. Moments later the entire camp was in uproar, Noxian troops charged at Varus from all sides. Guess he had no use for his revealing robe now. He removed it with a swift gesture and linked that action to the action of reaching for more arrows. His appearance shocked the first row of Noxians approaching him, and he used this to his advantage, pointing his bow skyward and making his deadly leverage rain on them from the skies. He sensed an incoming axe- strike from above and dashed forward into a horizontal jump. Landing on his pivot leg he readied himself against the recoil of his weapon and unleashed a powerful _piercing arrow_. It effortlessly sliced through the thick amour plating his foe was donning, and it damaged his liver. Apparently not satisfied with its accomplishments it continued onward, killing more Noxians in the process. Varus ran over to the axe wielder that had fallen on his knees and knee- kicked him. His foe spit out blood and teeth and he quickly followed up with a crushing stab with an arrow through the ear to finish him off. He continued on and slaughtered so many. None were getting away. It was a slaughter.

* * *

One of the last Noxian soldiers, apparently their commander, was pathetically crawling away from the masacre in the forest. A deadly accurate shot had kneecapped and subsequently crippled him for life, which he was now desperately trying to save. He saw one of his own rush by. Completely ignoring his commander. He cursed. How could one man prove so strong that he just waltzed into their base and killed all of them effortlessly? Did those people exist? How did they not even notice an adversary of this magnitude during their earlier skirmish?

He broke his train of thought when the soldier in front of him was struck by a chain and nailed to the ground.

"No one escapes my hatred."

Fear filled the commander as he looked over to see his assailant walk up to him.

"P- please ! Spare me! I- I will give you anything! Anything I tell you! I- "

"Shut up."

Varus gut- punched the commander, depriving him of air.

While he was gasping and twisting on the ground Varus bent over him and shoved an arrow into the ground, milimeters away from the commanders's face.

"Bring them this, and tell them Varus, The Arrow of Retribution, has sent you."

The archer turned his back on the officer, who was currently pissing himself, and clasped his medallion. A long journey was about to ensue.

* * *

 **Yes, this is random, but I still enjoyed writing this. I was reading through the Bilge water lore on League of Legends (which is actually really well written and illustrated, highly recommendable) and it gave me a sudden urge to write a fanfic on League of Legends, and so I picked my favorite champ (LORE WISE) Varus. His lore also aligns well with my FE fanfic, which you can see if you click on my username. I didn't really plan on writing this in advance, but hey if it's well received I might just write a part two, and three and so forth. Don't forget to leave a review if you liked or disliked the piece. All feedback is appreciated.**

 **That's it for now, it's late and I'm gonna play a game… Guess which one ;)**

 **Hope my mid doesn't feed….**

 **Byeee,**

 **Arms_Of_Sorrow**


	2. An Ally in Vengeance

Winter had fallen upon Ionia and the island was covered under a layer of white. Apart from the capitol and other major cities with their huge nexuses as ramparts, every nook and cranny of the land had been subjected to chilling weather conditions. These were the cold, or rather freezing months of the year. Citizens and bandits alike had taken to their flimsy stoves or campfires, and weren't planning on venturing away from their somewhat cozy abodes any time soon. Even the hardened Noxian denizens had all set up camps and stayed put. Every human and animal was clattering their teeth, trying their utmost to survive this persistent cold spell.

But Varus wasn't mortal anymore.

He had spent the last weeks travelling the lands of Ionia, targeting encampment after encampment of Noxian scum. Systematically he always left one Noxian miscreant alive to spread his name. He was hoping to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. A pressured opponent who feared his enemy could end up two ways: Either lashing out with increased morale from being driven into a corner or barely putting up a fight. The archer knew that the Noxian dogs would always end up in the latter way. A slab of wet snow hit his face and completely broke his concentration. He dropped his arrow in the snow and cursed. Wiping the moist precipitation off his face he picked his arrow up and reformed his stance. After hunting a terrifying pack of bramble backs for the trading outpost they provided him with the information that they were actually collaborating with Noxus and were trading with them regularly. After hearing that he killed them all of course, but not after getting the exact location of the resource transport. Now he was here, in the freezing forest that was yet to be fully mapped out. The cold didn't bother him, he didn't even feel it. The flame of Pallas had soiled his body, coloring his skin white, pale didn't even come close as a description, even his eyes had lost their gleam and were now without even a hint of color. Because of this, his eyesight had worsened. But that was not his biggest problem. At first he figured that the curse would only tear at his insides. He couldn't have been further off. It began with his feet. He had woken up that day with a mortifying pain originating in his thighs. It had rendered him unable to move for well over seven minutes. It had felt like something was biting through his flesh from the inside, and upon further inspection that was exactly what was happening. Eventually he passed out. When he woke up he noticed that his lower thighs had changed, enveloped by a tough as nails purple... Shell... of some sort. And from there on out his demeanor had made a change for the worse, transforming him into the fiend that he was now little by little. This was the price he had paid for power. And he wasn't about to waste it. That's why he was here, in the stone cold weather.

Now where were those dogs?

Drawing back his bow a little he peered through the cloak of snowflakes. He squinted his eyes in an attempt to make out some rough figures through the veil and confirmed that it was indeed the Noxian supply convoy. He quickly revised the little battle plan he had been using for convoys these weeks. He would hide in the brush and amongst the scenery along the paved road and wait in ambush. Then he would reveal his presence by making the first move, chaining the mounts to the ground and sending a piercing arrow through any of the guard that dared to oppose him. Lastly, he would riddle the remaining soldiers with arrows and ransack the convoy, leaving the place of manslaughter to remain as a reminder of his hatred.

They were closing in on his position and a snowstorm was starting to unfold, the status quo couldn't have been better. Varus smirked. Unaffected by the thickening cloud of snow he prepared to put his plan into motion. He heard the Noxian carts' crunchy sound in the snow get closer and closer, and when the nearest horse planted its soon to be misfortunate hoof in the thick layer of white Varus shot up and released his deadly leverage. Or so he meant to thirty seconds ago, because he suddenly jumped back, acting out of instinct. He felt that a great power was in his vicinity, but he couldn't locate it. That was when he saw the person he had abandoned his attack for. Six headlights. Glowing an ominous shade of toxic green in the blizzard. Things moved surprisingly fast. The convoy halted and the leader and commander stepped off the front cart. The exchange between the two didn't take long. A whopping three seconds were spent before the six-lights drew a peculiar sword and beheaded the Noxian in one swoop.

"Hmm. Clean cut." Mumbled Varus. He was right in his remark. The slash was so controlled, so well performed, that the snow had yet to hit its sharp side. And that was extremely special in the midst of a snowstorm.

The commander's head plopped into the snow and the startled other Noxian hurried to disembark their carts. It was about to get ugly. The lone swordsman remained stationary as the grunts charged his position, axes held high. He didn't move a muscle until they were but a few feet away, and then quickly readied himself, snapping into lowered stance with raised weapon- arm. Varus counted about seven Noxian miscreants near the six-lights, and three more on their way. He didn't give him much of a chance, and nocked an arrow to at least capitalize on this brave but foolish attempt. He nocked an arrow and drew his bow as far back as he could, tracing the path the arrow would take his first shot would end two right off the bat. But first the distraction. Soon the lone swordsman would perish in a gust of clobbering axe strikes, and then he would-

What happened next completely stunned the archer and broke his train of thought.

Rather than being killed off like Varus expected him to, the dueler made his move in a split second. He shot forward, and the next moves were not perceptible to human eyes. But Varus saw. The perfect form, the impeccable timing, that unwavering physique. The swordsman moved at highly accelerated speeds in a Z- pattern, striking six of his attackers and finishing all of them with but a single strike. Unfortunately his decision to not return to his initial position was far from a wise one, since the only Noxian he couldn't reach cleverly predicted his position and brought down his axe, as soon as it would connect.

Varus acted out of instinct.

One nocked arrow let loose flew for exactly three seconds before piercing the Noxian's headwear and blowing him against the ground with a high force.

Damnit, what had he done, now he had revealed his position to the enemy. There, they were charging him already. Well whatever. They were small fry. He vaulted back and let loose a stack of arrows, meant to make the enemy redirect their paths to a more favorable position. They fell for it. Fools. A piercing arrow made quick work of his first foe, a hail of arrows got the other two. The fourth Noxian realized his situation and attempted a hasty retreat. Varus pursued and drew for another piercing arrow. He shot and closed his eyes, expecting to find a struck body when he opened them again. Wait what? He missed. He cursed and tried to locate his enemy whilst giving pursuit. He jumped over a ledge in a swift motion but suddenly, and greatly to his surprise, a hand grabbed his left leg and smacked him into the ground, ending his short ascend to the skies. He got caught. Landing on his back with the snow cushioning his fall he struggled to grasp his bow. The Noxian crawled on his chest and readied his strike. But he wasn't going down so quickly. He buckled his hips and whipped up his hipbone, shaking off his attacker. If only he could reach his bow. He prowled at his weapon, but once again he was dragged back by his muffler. Fisticuffs was his weakest trait, and he knew it. He was done for, he knew he was going to perish. But there was no surrender. One thump knocked his left eye shut, another bash in his stomach made him cough up afflicted purple blood. Was this the end?

No.

He opened his right eye to see a sword protruding from his assailants throat. The invading blade left the ruffian's esophagus and blood splurged out, all over the archer's chest. He pushed away the gurgling Noxian and saw the six- lights towering above him, stroking his little goatee and rubbing the blood splatter off his blade.

"You got cocky."

Varus didn't respond and instead took the extended arm that the man offered him. He wiped the snow off his back and took up his bow again, beginning to move at the now fortified convoy with the swordsman at his side.

"Yi."

"Varus."

* * *

 **Hello again summoners (oh wait summoners are discontinued, crap),**

 **Chapter two of my League of Legends fic is up. At first I planned for this fic to be a one- shot. But damn I was blown away by the positive repsonse both online and offline. So here is part two.**

 **I have actually been ill this week, so I couldn't upload this as fast as I wanted to. At least I had a new album (Motionless in White, Reincarnate) to get me through the week.**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoyed this part as well as the first one, please consider leaving a review, it show me that people still like to read my fics, and it's a huge boost to my motivation :)**

 **That was it, until the next chapter.**

 **Arms_Of_Sorrow**

 **Ps. For the FE fanfic readers; I'm working on the new chapter, it's halfway done :)**


	3. An Ally in Vengeance pt 2

His lazy grip on the shaft of his bow tightened as he rapidly approached his (far from worthy) adversaries with his newfound.. Ally? Enemy? Varus wasn't really sure. During battle there were no allies, only potential enemies diverging to the enemy side. At least that was what he had told himself for these last few months. And yet he had felt no hostility from this six- lensed swordsman. Only the raging feeling that he had come oh-so familiar with this past time. The undoubtable thirst for vengeance. He prepared two arrows on his index finger and thumb and drew his bow back. He had kept a clairvoyant look on the inside of the snowstorm all this time, and he was sure his partner was doing the same. He had been keeping up with him all this time, and to the Noxian's this might have appeared as a straight – on, thoughtless assault. The reality was that the two were following a strict unspoken plan. It was time to put it in motion. Raising his bow and drawing it back all the way, Varus aimed his ammunition at the biggest Noxian retainer of the bunch. It was tough keeping his bow drawn all the way whilst running at the same time, but the archer managed. Then, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and let loose. The force of his flexed muscles and the gravity of motion gave the arrow an incredible force, and the Noxian brute took a brutal attack head on. The arrows had so much power behind them he actually was thrown back by the force, plunging in a bed of cold snow. Not even a tenth of a second later Yi firmly planted his boot on his broad chest. A firm slash cut open a vein running in his foe's neck another one took off the arm that was holding the weapon meant to take his life. It too plunged into the cold snow, still firmly holding the axe. Yi ran on. The grimace his lips had previously made had now curled into a stern, neutral line. His body moved in a rhythmic motion Varus hadn't encountered before. The sword master had seemingly fallen into a trance, or maybe his senses had overtaken him. One thing was clear: Yi had fallen into a deep unconscious state of mind. He slashed through his enemies as if they were made out of butter, herding them into his clawing attacks like livestock. He landed an attack on a big boned Noxian, but the latter caught his attack in its arch with an attack of his own. Connecting blade to broad axe. He then tried to follow up by overpowering his nemesis but Yi wasn't having any of it. As soon as his blade hit steel instead of flesh he moved back, making the Noxian stumble. His foe was quicker on his feet than he anticipated though, as he used the momentum of his stumbling to plow his boot into the soil and use it to lock into striking position in one fluid motion. He brought his axe up, but Yi outsmarted him yet again with a move that Varus instantly deemed impossible to use for an ordinary swordsman. One attack visibly hit the axe and hit it back, the other one wasn't perceivable to human eyes. It hit his leg and cut right through bone and marrow. The miscreant fell on his severed stump of a right leg, and let out a scream of agonizing pain as his limb hit the hard soil. His scream didn't last long. Yi split him from top to bottom and moved on, not even granting him a further look. The Noxians had noticed their body count of what were in their eyes formidable soldiers had raised by two. And some were beating a hasted retreat to god knew where. Varus wasn't allowing that. His piercing shot kneecapped on who face first hit the ground. He would deal with him later. A well- aimed shot to the back of the head took out another one who had almost reached the edge of the forest near the path. The last deserter, just a greenhorn boy, didn't even have the chance to leave the cart he was on. A crippling shot nailed his upper thigh to the post used to climb the cart. The fear made him throw up. In a twisted move of fate the next shot aimed at his forehead pierced his wide – open mouth. He died a painful death. A grim smile danced on his lips. Why should he feel remorse? His oldest was even younger than his kid. And yet the Noxians didn't spare him. He looked over in Yi's direction. Seems like he had wrapped as well. A slight smile danced on his lips as he wiped his smudgy blade between the furls of his trousers. After this he started a peculiar order of moves and a chanting spell that resembled a meditation process. Ignoring him and shaking off the thought that his ally was probably a monk Varus started to collect as much resources as he could carry. Refilling his quiver with arrows and stuffing his modest backpack with all that it was able to hold in terms of food and beverage and then lit the rest on fire with the flint and stone (the other two items his rucksack held). The chariots burning, the archer turned his back on the convoy, pondering how long it would be before the ashes and human remains would be found by the Noxian scum. He had almost reached the forests edge when he heard a sound from behind him.

"Wait."

Yi, apparently done with his meditation session , was approaching him. It was the second time the archer heard his voice. It had a certain.. Anger… in it.

He sighed. "What."

"Who are you?"

"I go by the name of Varus."

The name seemed to ring a bell, but the swordsman still wasn't certain of who he was dealing with. Varus seemed a bit uncertain of what he was to do next, so he considered just turning his back on the man.

He swallowed and rubbed the back of his head. "Look, Six- lights. I'm not one to care about small talk. I only live to wreak havoc on Noxus."

A sarcastic smile danced on Yi's lips. "I would consider a man that has such a profound hate for the Noxian invaders to be my closest friend."

The archer liked the ring of that. This entire time he had been weighing off his options mentally. If he was to make this Ionian his ally he would have one of the strongest duelers in probably all Ionia fighting for his side, on the other side there was a high probability that his alliance would become a burden later on. Having extra fighters was always more baggage and more food, and he knew nothing about this man. He was about to open his mouth when the weather changed from a slightly cloudy state after the blizzard to a heavy rainstorm. Thunder was rolling through the skies and thick strands of rain were perforating the snow. Varus wasn't bothered by it, but he noticed that Yi clearly was.

"… I know of a sheltered grotto not far from here. We could set up camp there." He said. Not waiting for a reply to his proposal, he moved through the trees. He didn't feel any cold or sickness, but the streaming rain was making the strand of his bow wet, which annoyed him. Yi didn't hesitate and followed him quickly.

…

The rain was clobbering on the mountain outside, and little drops of water were slowly dripping from the rocky ceiling in the crevice the two had sheltered in. They had lit a fire and were drinking in the warmth of their burning contraption. Yi had closed his eyes and tilted his head against the sturdy walls of the cave.

"So, are you the "Arrow of Retribution" I have been hearing about lately?" He asked, shifting into a more comfortable pose. The fact that this name he had conceived in a matter of seconds had spread far enough to reach a swordsman of this caliber pleased Varus. Smiling sourly he threw a little wooden twig onto the pile to keep the fire going.

"The one and only." He went silent.

"You're not one for words, are you, Varus?"

"…"

"Heh."

Yi opened his eyes and decided to actually start cleaning his goggles rather than leisurely playing around with them. He ruffled inside the linings of his pockets with is free hand and found a little rag. Spitting on it, he brought it down to his specs and started to trace their grimy lines diligently.

"Who are you? No, seriously, who are you? I ran with the army for quite some time, and only just recently reports have started to pop up of this "Arrow Of Retribution", singlehandedly taking out Noxian convoys and pillaging their trade routes by the day."

"And you were sent to investigate that man?" Replied Varus.

The look on Yi's face darkened.

"I'm afraid not. In fact, I have been doing the same thing for the past time." He pulled his goggles over his head and fastened the straps behind his ears. "Only I didn't leave any survivors to spread my name."

Varus stood up and took a few steps to the crevice's opening, leaning on the wall with an elbow and looking back at his companion.

"So you're not into it for glory, but spreading one's name has its uses."

Yi smiled. "Oh, my name has spread alright. Way, way before those Noxian buffoons even showed up at our soil I was renowned as one of the best Wuju swordsmen. But now…"

That phrase cleared up the cobwebs that lingered in his mind. " I should've known. Yi. _Master_ Yi."

Yi cracked his knuckles, unsurprised by the fact that Varus knew of him.

"That's me."

"Your village… It's?"

Yi nodded.

"I ventured to the fields of battle and glory as part of my personal training, however… I performed to well. When I returned with the fruits of my blood, sweat and tears, there was no one left to show it to."

Varus knew all too well what he was talking about. From all of the people that had suffered from Noxus' inhumane misbehavior, he felt that master Yi was the one that had been the closest to his pain, to his suffering. To his hatred.

He returned to his spot near the fire and let out a yawn.

"Your skill with the bow… It's too advanced for you to be just any war victim who happened to practice archery. That there, is years of training, dedication and bruises. I know of only one village, every archers sacred ground. Worshippers of the bow, stalwarts of the pit of Pallas."

Yi paused for a second and swallowed.

"But you're level of skill is still high above any of those archers, which means that you must be one of the chosen ones. To protect the Pit of Pallas. The flame."

Yi paused again and presumably looked straight at Varus (it was hard to see with the oversized goggles he wore).

"Varus, what happened to the Flame of Pallas?"

The archer bore a grim expression and turned away from his companion.

"The Flame is no more, just as Varus, Defender of the Flame is no more. Their fates have intertwined, and that's what I am. I have become the human vessel for the flame inhabit, and hence it lingers deep within me with its grotesque thorns."

Yi was taken aback by his confession.

"You actually touched the flame, and it accepted you?" He said, a mixture of amazement and fear resounding in his voice.

Varus gave a short nod.

Yi rubbed the back of his head and seized Varus up from top to bottom.

"And I thought I had seen all in life. Not in my wildest dreams had I ever thought I'd meet a real, living, breathing contract- holder."

Varus raised an eyebrow. "Contract holder?"

"Yes."

"Contract holder with whom?"

Yi stood up, and inched closer to the archer. A number of questions were raising through his head. Despite having sworn to protect the flame, no one had ever known what it was outside from a malevolent source of amazing power. He was curious. Extremely curious.

"A contract holder with who, Yi?"

Yi went silent.

"A contract holder- "

"-With a darkin."

…

 **Greetings, readers,**

 **The next chapter is finally up! I have to admit it took longer than expected, but I have stuff to take care of so the chapters are delayed a bit. I am trying to get them out one time a week though.**

 **For those who don't know what a darkin is. Well, aatrox is a darkin, for one. There is this interesting theory on YouTube how the Darkin are actually sentient souls that inhabit the weapons, and thereby influence the owner. I decided to roll with that.**

 **Anyways, don't forget to leave a review if you liked or disliked it, and look forward to the next chapter ;-)**

 **Byee,**

 **Arms_Of_Sorrow**


	4. Double chains, Double corruption

Night had fallen upon the quaint little town like a warm blanket on a newborn, and most of its inhabitants were enjoying a good night's rest. The only lanterns that remained lit were those that the night watch were holding. They were scouring the streets, their head burrowed into their warm coats and mufflers. Little snowflakes were serenely touching their hats' surface. Their captain sighed and watched the cold air blow out of his mouth. His lantern thoroughly illuminated the dark alley he sought to check. Nobody to be found here either. He hurried to rejoin his men. Had he lost them? No, those were familiar black trench coats up ahead. He clenched his pike and hurried over to his comrades. Passing the harbor on the way to his fellow watchers he briefly shone on the fishing boats and commercial trading vessels. They hadn't been used in ages. Those damn Noxian buffoons just _had_ to come and attack this town he loved so much. _His_ beloved multicultural community, with all its different races and cultures. Good thing that they were driven back now and were fighting elsewhere. Served the bastards right. But with Noxus' departure, something.. else… had appeared. Something otherworldly. It was what they were hunting now. Heck it was the one and only reason for the town having a night watch . But this was no time to be pondering, as he was fast approaching his group.

When he rejoined them his subordinate saluted him with a slight tip of the hat.

"Any findings over in your direction, Cap'n Ivan?" He asked.

"No, it seems he is not showing himself today."

"Hmm.. Best to keep looking." The young man ruffled through his unruly hair whilst giving his superior a gingerly look. Turning around, he was just about to resume his search when he was startled by his fellow watcher that suddenly shot out of a dark alleyway.

"Cap'n! Trouble!"

The man immediately reared his head. "Where?"

"The center of the town, he got one of our own!"

Ivan gritted and cursed under his breath. His subordinate and him exchanged a short look.

He grabbed his pike higher up the shaft and held it low to increase his velocity. "No time to lose, let's hurry!"

* * *

"… This is the kid?" He purred under his curt moustache.

A short nod from his second in command confirmed that this was indeed the case. Ivan waved the long lad off and touched the unfortunate young man's jaw with his groggy hands to rear it to the side, exposing a lengthy wound that seemed like it was caused by the rake of a sickle or a flail of some sorts.

"Poor lad."

He carefully laid the boys head to rest on the pavement again and closed his eyes.

"Corporal! You traced the blood back to a park in the artisans district?"

"We are waiting for an order to go in. We currently have it surrounded."

He nodded shortly. "Let's make haste."

* * *

The park was very dimly lit, the only lights were provided by the occasional lantern- posts that were spread scarcely. The expression on the captain' s face was stern, as were the expressions his subordinates bore.

He made a short gesture with his right hand, signaling everyone to commence the attack. The watchmen were moving at a slow, steady pace. To where? That wasn't hard to establish. The closer you got to the center of the small park the more greenish the air became in color and how harder it became to breathe.

The captain halted, they had come the closest they possibly could to their target without being spotted. He steeled his mind and closed his eyes. He exhaled briefly. "Okay. Stay strong, Ivan." He opened his eyes again, and with the opening came the loud "Charge!" order from his mouth and the resounding "Yes, Sir!" from his men. They ran to the center of the park, pikes held high. Morale high. They were fighting the good cause. Ivan was the first to arrive.

"Begone, ,fiend!" He shouted, and attacked with the blunt side of his weapon, his men followed suit. One strike, two strikes. Four strikes, seven strikes. Every watchman had his fill. After two minutes of relentless assault, they ceased their blinded rage. Silence fell between them as they stood there, panting, heaving. It was then that they realized, to their great shock, that they had been hacking away at a corpse covered in ectoplasm all this time.

"No, it can't be! Men, ambush!"

He hadn't even finished his sentence or he heard a scream behind him. The whole group jumped and faced the direction of the scream. They saw one their one of their comrades, head split in two diagonally, with the weapon still embedded in his dead body. Time moved very quickly after that. The flay was connected to a chain that went back into a brush. The user yanked it back, taking the body with it in a powerful pull. The watchmen jumped at the opportunity almost immediately and charged his position in the scenery, but before they even reached the tall brushes the body from a moment ago came flying out the brush, knocking the closest watchers back, face planting them into pavement. Immediately a shadow jumped on top of them. It flayed its weapon low to the ground, slicing necks and killing two watcher right off the bat.

"Surround him!" Roared the captain.

The guard moved quickly to encircle their foe, but he halted their effort by swinging his weapon in wide arc, utilizing the length of his chain. He caught a running watchman, hooked his curved flay around his neck, and swung into the opposite direction he was rushing to, throwing him against the others. Suddenly the shadowy figure disappeared to seemingly nowhere. The captain blinked.

"Where has he gone?!"

The answer came from behind him. To his left he found a crippled watcher being dragged back, the flay wrapped around his leg. A split second after that the shadowy figure came "flying" towards them, using the body of the their comrade as an anchor point for his flight. He shot up straight into the sky. Now that the figure was above them, the captain caught a glimpse of his what he looked like; Ragged robe, torn beyond repair, weathered belt, and a lantern giving off an otherworldly green glow.

He was captivated, so much even that he almost forgot to block the next attack. The fiend came down with a shattering blow. He managed to block it, but the weight of the blow ran down his right leg. Wasn't able to use that anymore.

He looked around. Damnit, he was the only one left. He leaned on his pike and faced his enemy with a stern expression. Then, something happened he didn't think was possible. His foe spoke. His voice brooding, devilish, and extremely fear- inducing.

"Ahhh, finally.. A strong- willed one… I'm going to have fun breaking you." He said grinning maliciously.

Any hope he had left faded away into obscurity. But he was sure of one thing: he wasn't going down without a fight.

He mustered up all his strength and crawled on his feet, but his opponent simply swept him off his feet with the chain part of his bizarre weapon. He struggled to get back up again, but the sharp point of the flay pinned him came down with a force that would make even the strongest Ionian swordsmen blush in embarrassment. The attack punctured his right shoulder, cutting through the flesh as if it was made out of butter. Ivan's free arm spastically reached for his pike, eyes blaze with fighting spirit. A heavy leather boot crushed his free arm. He was completely helpless now. The creature took his time to move over him. His tall figure towering over him, he spoke once more/

"Since we are going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on… My name is Thresh. And your pathetic name, and every mortal title you think you've earned, they all have no meaning anymore… You are destined to be plaything, In life.. And in death.." He let out a haunting laugh, which echoed throughout the park. He tilted his weapon, causing extreme for the captain. Then he suddenly grabbed Ivan off the ground and moved his face very close his own.

"So imprint this face into your retina as your last memory, since we will be seeing each other more than a newlywed couple." His joke clearly amused him. Still laughing, he threw Ivan back on the ground and yanked his weapon out of his right shoulder. Ivan didn't have the strength to resist anymore. He just laid there, powerless. Pain was overflowing from his shoulder, coursing through his body, immobilizing every organ it met. Thresh ceased laughing.

"But enough of this useless banter. You- " He paused and wildly threw his weapon behind him, preparing for an almighty finisher.

"- Are mine!" He shouted, and let down his flay.

Ivan saw the blood- stained tool approaching, and quietly accepted his fate. Yet there was still this glimmer, this one last glint of hope he had left. The hope for rescue, the hope for the impossible.

There, in his last moments, he made a wish, a silent outcry. He wished for the impossible.

Then he heard a swish behind him, and the sound of string hitting wood. And therein laid his hope.

His wish had been heard.

The arrow soared towards Thresh at high velocity. Knowing he was unable to dodge at this speed, he instead threw his weapon at the incoming projectile with all he had. His flay connected with the very tip of its head, and with a sliver of delight on his face he ran the arrow into the ground, crushing it like a twig. However, the specter realized this wouldn't be the end of his sudden assault. More shots were certain to be fired. And it turned out he was indeed right in his suspicion. Not even a second later a haze of arrows soared towards him, the only difference being that this time he knew they were coming and had ample of time to prepare. He athletically dodged the first coming of arrows by pulling him towards his anchored flay, away from the spot the arrows were predestined to hit. Landing at his right knee he bent it and whipped his weapon up from the ground, creatively using the ample amounts of dirt he whipped up as a temporary shield to catch the arrows in. Then he suddenly whipped his head up. Lucky that he did, because a hail of arrows was about to hit him from above. His wild swing split the swarm in half, but the leverage still grazed him at multiple points. He gritted. These arrows hurt him more than ordinary arrows would do. A quick low altitude arrow meant to kneecap him failed to catch him of guard. He jumped over it, the shot, instead adding to his awareness and general understanding of each shot's curve and speed. He had already predicted where his next attack would take place, up above him again. And alas, it was as he had anticipated. Again he dodged the attack quickly by gracefully leaping forward. It was only when his feet had left the ground when he realized his fatal mistake.

Below him was the figure of a lone archer, his bow loaded with three arrows and aimed at his chest. There was no escape from these shots, no way to avert their course… Unless..

The archer released, the arrows shooting forward at high speeds, yet for Thresh, the situation played out in slow motion. The arrows slowly made their way to his lower abdomen, he had lucked out in the fact that the arrows were all nearing one spot, it made it way easier for him to do what he was about to do.

He waited until they had almost reached him, and then, a split- second before his second death, he swung his lantern in harm's way. He had no time to fully swing his flay around so he simply waited until he had landed. Unfortunately his attacker was also aware of the incoming strike, and quickly shot forward whilst nocking to more arrows, moving out of Thresh 's range. It appeared this man had been following the previous fight, since he had a great perception of the specters capabilities. Recognizing that his opponent sought to outflank him to get off a great shot Thresh ran in a perpendicular direction, grabbing the highest part of his chain to regain more control over his flay. He intended to parry every single one of his foes shots. The two ran in circles, carefully tracing each other's steps. The archer, who, upon further inspection, appeared quite inhuman to Thresh now, releasing arrow after arrow, and Thresh deflecting every single one of them. Both realizing that this was going to end up with the archer running out of arrows, they formulated a battle plan. Thresh was aiming to just wait it out and pretend to stumble at his last arrow, but his luck failed him once more when he actually stumbled. He had to spread his arms to retain his balance, but he soon realized this made him one of the easiest targets in all of Ionia. He had no choice but to give in to gravity and allow himself to fall in order to dodge the arrow. He hit the ground, but soon realized that since his opponent was out of ammunition, it was his victory. He would catch the archer mid-air and throw him to the ground. He raised his torso and tightened the grip on his weapon. As soon as he saw his enemy appear before him, probably holding a knife of some sorts, he triumphantly threw his flay, and slammed him to the ground.

… Or at least that was what he was intending to do.

The moment he flexed his muscles he was pinned back to the ground by a purplish substance that resembled a chain. He couldn't reach his flay. Over to his right the souls were seeping out of the holes the arrows had made in his lantern.

It was over.

* * *

Varus wept the sweat of his forehead. This was a tough one. He was lucky that he was able to surprise this… thing… With his chain of corruption, or it would've turned out real ugly for him, he thought while seizing up the sharp edge of his opponents flay. He clasped his medallion. It was going wild, swinging towards the lantern in front of him. Vibrating in his hand. He noticed something cradling towards him between the grass; too big to be a bug, too small to be an animal. It had an otherworldly see through body, and seemed to be wanting to latch on to his leg. He trampled it before it had that opportunity.

"You." He said. Focusing his gaze on the thing lying in front of him.

"The warden of souls?"

Two eyes dangerously lit up before him.

"You seem to know me, half- mortal." Thresh said, playing around with his chains a little.

"Normally I'm the one who does the chaining." He joked.

"Shut up. And don't get too familiar with me, fiend. I just seek answers to my questions. I know why you traveled to this land."

Thresh cracked a smile. "Oh, do you now?" He said.

Varus didn't care for his answer, and instead continued.

"You, the ghost who has somehow gained the ability to keep the souls of the deceased in his possession. Seeing as there must have been quite a large number of souls to collect, you must've happened to come across a remote little village, built around the Pit of Pallas."

Thresh mocked looking for the mental image of the town, and then simply nodded, intrigued by Varus ' next question.

"It was raided by Noxus. And the attack was led by two commanders, this I know. One lies to rot in the forests of Pallas. However the other one still goes free. Who is he?"

Seeing as he was in no position to offer any non- futile resistance, Thresh obliged. It was nearing daybreak when Varus heard the name of his next target.

He stood there and kept repeating that name over and over, as if burning it into his grey mass. Then, the warden was suddenly free of his chains, for they had an expiration date and couldn't dwell in the mortal realm for long. Varus quickly tried to reform the bounds, but Thresh blocked the chain with a chain of his own, entangling the two and releasing it from his flay, dropping the intertwined shackles on the ground.

"In knowing so much, boy, you still fail to realize a crucial point."

Varus raised an eyebrow. And Thresh laughed.

"If I was there that day, what did you think I did there?"

Varus thought, and then suddenly realized, with a shocked expression embedded into his face he faced Thresh, but the specter was long gone. Only leaving the archer with three words, followed by a haunting laughter.

"They were delectable."

* * *

 **At long last that's done. Didn't have much time to write with school going on, but I at least managed to get this chapter out. It's even longer than normal, so I hope that will quench your thirst a little xD**

 **Hope you enjoyed, please leave a review if you did or didn't, all feedback is appreciated.**

 **Until the next chapter,**

 **Byee**

 **Arms_Of_Sorrow**


	5. Haunted Forest Arc: The Ambush

The sky was darkening, signing the creatures of Ionia that the day was nearing its end. The quaint little tavern where Varus was residing in at the time slowly began filling itself up with as many villagers it could hold. A friendly fire was heartily embracing drowsy townsman and weary traveler alike, who gladly endorsed in using it. Many cradled up around its benevolent warmth. Varus was at the bar, finishing up his jug of mead. One of the first things he had found out about his changed body was that it had a dedicated self- preservation system, meaning that any effects of the intake of alien instances was instantly nullified. Without all the fancy terms this basically meant he couldn't get drunk anymore. He made a sour face and he shoved his mug aside.

"Bah. That was crap."

Tightening his belt and pulling down his fur cloak (his visage generally scared the living daylights out of any member of the human race) he stood up and started to walk towards the exit.

"Sir! Mister archer, sir, hold up!" Said a voice behind him.

He turned around.

"What?" He asked crossly, annoyed that the owner of the tavern called him out when he was right near the exit.

"You're not planning to enter the haunted forest, are you mister?"

Varus blinked. "The what?"

He returned to his stool nearby the owner of the tavern. The next couple of minutes were stained with off-putting stories about the forest; about its magical roots and its apparent obsessively stalking ghosts. Over the course of this event the sun had retired and the moon had taken its place to illuminate the veil of darkness that was enveloping the continent. Out the inn came an annoyed Varus. The keeper had wasted his time considerably with all his folklore and superstitions, and the moist in the air betrayed the coming of rain as well, meaning he would get soaked to the bone. He sighed.

Something told him this was going to be a rough night.

It didn't take long for him to find a suitable place to set up camp. After roughly two hours he found a clearing in the woods that coated the landscape near one of its mountains. He had been doing this for a while now. Despite the foreboding signs of a storm, the weather had played nice long enough for the archer to set up a humble camp and start a flickering fire. He had reinforced his temporary abode with his traveling cloak made up of burlap. It was now clumsily blocking the rain out. By no means was it a perfect system (the cloak was way too small to cover the entire tent), but at least it was working. Varus was extremely weary. A rainstorm such as this was one of the worst weather conditions for an archer. The human eye couldn't see squat through the thick veil of rain, and the dominant sound of raindrops hitting the surface was overpowering every other sound. The Darkin was heightening Varus's senses, yes, but in this weather, even the Arrow of Retribution himself was having problems.

He managed to outlive the rainstorm, and when the last drop of rain had splashed on the soil Varus was finally able to give in and fall into a well- deserved sleep.

* * *

Varus shot up like a lightning bolt. His arm wildly reached for his bow and in the same motion his other limb pulled one arrow out of his quiver. He readied his arm and drew back his bow for a piercing arrow. Outside the tent silhouettes of armed forces were steadily approaching his position. Their weapons were out, and they were moving in a combat formation. These were armed forces out to get him, so he aimed his weapon and aimed for the nearest denizen. The shot tore through the rags of the small tent and hit the unfortunate sod right in the chest, throwing the man back a few meters and ending his life abruptly. Varus smiled. He had gained the drop on these fools. Recognizing the assaulters as Noxians he ran out of his tent and shot to a halt, nocking three arrows. He fired them in a wide arc around him, making sure to let every shot count. So far no Noxian ape had reached him yet. In his haste, or rather his impatience he had had no time to take his quiver with him, so he was stuck with using the arrows he had planted in the soil around his tent (a technique that was quite common for Ionian archers). Knowing the tactics of Noxus thoroughly as a result of fighting them for so long, Varus realized that the enemy had more units stationed nearby, waiting for the right opportunity. Usually these men were the hard hitters of the company, so the archer made sure to be very sparse with his ammunition. One more arrow flew forth from his bow and punctured the throat of the nearest Noxian, the man dropped his axe and stumbled onto the ground, hilariously halting one of his allies in the process. The idiot almost fell over the corpse that had promptly landed in front of him and then struggled to regain his footing. His clumsiness was met by a merciless shot to the abdomen.

Varus swept some sweat off his forehead. Not many of them were left now. His relentless barrage of arrows had stopped them in their tracks. Some had taken cover, others had taken to trying to draw closer to their opponent by running in complicated pattern. The fact that these rookies thought they had a chance against someone who had been fighting their peers for weeks now ticked him off to no end. He drew his bow back as far as he could and shot them down with arrows fueled by pure annoyance.

The only ones left now were seeking refuge behind the rocky terrain to his left. Couldn't be more than three or four. Varus yanked his last batch of arrows out of the mushy soil underneath his feet and let loose a hail of arrows on the spot he suspected they had holed up on. His estimation was met by screams, and he used the opportunity to run back and retrieve his quiver. He made a break for his tent, realizing that the backup troops were bound to arrive in a matter of seconds.

He was right.

The very second he entered his tent he jumped out again. Smart move, for if he had remained in that place for more than a tenth of a second he would've perished under a hail of javelins. The battle-cries of hardened veterans filled his ears as he swiftly grabbed his quiver and nocked an arrow. A large group of Noxian soldiers appeared from various points around him, and closed in on his position with unexpected speed, considering they were donning the heaviest armor the Noxian armory had to offer. Varus clenched his teeth and shot off a regular arrow to "test the waters". Its effects would tell the archer everything he needed to know. He watched it hit, and, to his shock, saw that it only halted the grunt in his charge. He quickly sent his foe to his death and ran towards the center of the field again, cursing as he reached for more arrows.

"It takes two or more arrows to drop them, are you kidding me?" He groaned. He was surrounded and under immense pressure to come up with a plan. Lucky for the archer these kinds of situations weren't unknown to him, and he quickly devised a simple strategy. He knocked multiple arrows and shifted into a crouched position, shooting his leverage in a wide arc. Very little of his arrows actually hit anyone (most of them simply strafed by their targets) but that was fine. Bracing his left leg, he launched away from his crouched pose and ran as hard as could. He shot past the burly soldiers like a hare and then came to an abrupt halt. He turned and released a chain of corruption. The shot hit and rooted two men to the ground. In an act of chivalry the rest of the company came rushing to their aid, unbeknownst of the chain's aftereffect.

"Good, be nice and move towards the afflicted ones." Grinned Varus.

He nocked as many arrows as he possibly could and triumphantly drew back his bow. Finally.

He released and watched his shot rain upon his helpless enemies, finishing them off in a matter of seconds.

Or at least that's what he expected to watch. Instead, out of seemingly nowhere, a huge Noxian appeared and cleared the impending doom with one, strong sweep of his axe, leaving Varus flabbergasted. Who the hell was this man?

"Officer Darius, you're here!"

"Commander!"

The name ringed a thousand alarm bells inside Varus ' head. One of the major pillars of the Noxian army had sought him out? The information was met with mixed reactions. Apparently word of his exploits had reached Noxian high command, which was good. However right now his life was in extreme danger. He reached for his quiver on his back.

Two arrows left.

The situation was unmanageable with only two arrows. He had to withdraw. He drew one and released a piercing shot, and then made a mad dash for the forest. He was running for as hard as he possibly could. His lungs felt like they were about to implode and black dots were forming, blurring his vision. Behind him he heard the Noxian hero fast approaching.

"What-?! Impossible!" He shouted. He was nearing the edge of the trees surrounding the mountain, as soon as he would leave his chances would dwindle to a negative number.

The archer realized he couldn't run anymore. But what was he to begin with one arrow? He checked his gear.

Two arrows.

One poachers knife.

One bow.

One hunting net, reinforced with sharp talons.

It had to be done, he had to kill this man, lest he would not survive.

He clasped his medallion.

"Let's hunt."

* * *

 **Well hello.. It's been a while hasn't it? To be completely honest I had this file sitting on my pc for quite some time, but found it lacking. So without the necessary time to write a better chapter I abandoned it, however, since I recognize it's been a while (due to my personal life and school I had to lay my priorities elsewhere than writing) I decided to release this anyway, with some tweaks to make it better. The next chapter is already in the making.**

 **See ya!**

 **Arms_Of_Sorrow**


	6. Diana's Journey pt 1: Night's Embrace

Today's evening is a frilly one. It calms my quelling anger and soothes me in her soft embrace.

The serene moonlight is playfully shimmering off my blade. I grab its handle and lift it up, admiring the engravings that are only really visible when it is basking in a veil of luminescence. Where the morning brings the cheerful concerts that are the birds chirping, the night brings the graceful opera's sung diligently the owl choirs. The night has so many engaging little details, so many small happenings. It's truly just as beautiful as the day.

And yet they didn't acknowledge it.

A cynical smile briefly appears on my lips but then quickly makes place for a grim expression. I see a lone figure ascend from the marble stairs. Even with the moonlight's soothing shine, her armor radiates in a violent orange. She flexes her muscles and thrusts her sword in my direction. It's not going to reach me – we are ten feet apart – but the symbolism of the act is not lost on me.

"So you too choose to bare your fangs towards me, Leona." I say, seizing up the tall woman.

"There is nothing to discuss, Diana. What happened to the elders?" She bites. Her fiery eyes seem to burn straight through my own, campaigning through my innards and wreaking havoc wherever they go. At this point there is no more denying what I did, no more going back to those days of watching her practice her swordplay in the Rakkorian arena. Gazing in amazement at her luscious orange locks, her stalwart gaze and her supple breasts.

No, those days are over now. Speaking no further words I step aside and lean against a sun- carved pillar, revealing a temple full of slain elders. She bites her upper lip and lets out a feral howl.

"Diana...!" The words come gurgling from her throat and shoot at me with a burning hatred. Before I even have time to react the Radiant Dawn shoots towards me. I didn't even notice the beam of sunlight reaching my stomach. She raises her blade and brings it down on me. I retaliate quickly by parrying it with a short jab of my crescent, although the blow does succeed in staggering me. My adversary quickly follows up with an array of fierce strikes. I'm completely on the defensive. A lunge coming from my upper left. I duck and swing my crescent in a wide arc, hoping to catch her with its curved edge. I fail. She sees through my move, however, and thrusts her knee forward, rendering my attack futile. She links the action with a strong shield bash and yet another downward slash.

"Your presence is a smudge upon this mount Targon, Diana!" She yells. Her words wound me deeper than I want to admit. She triumphantly brings down her blade, but I've had enough. In a single burst of ice- cold anger I cry out and completely tip the odds in my favor.

"Nightfall!" I howl. A violent burst of moonlight envelops us and explodes, throwing Leona off balance. I break her nose with a mean punch and instantly dash behind her towering figure. Throwing my blade in wide arc behind me this time I do manage to connect it to her hips. With the moon as my rampart I throw her against the nearest pillar and instantly raise my blade skyward, shooting out countless shades of pure white, I jump at her and bring my crescent down. It's edge tastes blood and fuels my anger. I let it down again and again, visions of the past shooting by as I mutilate the shoulder I once adored.

" _Your skin sure is pale isn't it? How beautiful? I wish mine was as serene as yours.. Mine's all yellow and filled with freckles! And your hair too! I would kill to have it so stylized and bright, rather than this unruly orange mess of a haircut I have, hehe!"_

" _Your mother is leaving, Diana. She betrayed our beliefs and chose to follow a false prophet. Now she pays the price. Maybe in her exile she will realize that she was wrong, and that I, her husband, and the rest of this Solari village, was right."_

I halt momentarily to see the damage I have wrought. Her entire right shoulder is demolished, my savage hacking has racked her skin wide open, and she's bleeding like a runt. However in stopping for a second I gave my enemy a valuable opportunity. Her blade pierces my right thigh as I scream in pain and widen the distance between us in one huge leap. She immediately jumps back on her feet and comes at me, screaming. I too throw myself at her and our blades clash fiercely, carrying with them our murderous intent. With every strike of my blade my maliciousness grows, coloring my garb, my hair, and my blade a deep pigment of red. I am now an even deeper shade of the moon's shadow, no feelings remain about my love for her and the shame of loving another woman remain . My inner valkyrie bursts free as I once more gain the upper hand.

"The night is my domain, Leona!" I shout, as I finally bury my crescent deep in her body, I grab the handle with two hands and push through even deeper hearing her blood-curdling scream as I mangle her stomach. I withdraw my blade and watch her sink on her knees. Her wounds are painting her golden armor crimson red, it's apparent that I am the victor of this conflict. I raise my blood- soaked blade once more to finish the job, but my weapon is feeling very heavy all of the sudden. It's the weight of my emotions, the weight of my betrayal, and the weight of my love. Hesitation fills my body and becomes a rowdy advisor, screaming in my ears, screaming at me to stop. My arm trembles, I can't do it after all. Behind me a single ray of golden sunlight finds its way to the temple. My power is fading slowly, and I realize that I should disappear before the sun basks this temple in its bright rays and the Solari come up to say their daily prayers, the prayers I despised.

I start descending the mountain from its rough side, untouched by human hands. However I halt in my tracks. Not yet. There is one more thing to do.

* * *

I enter the clay house with my weapon drawn. He is here, I know he is. The curtains are closed, darkening the entire abode. A fitting stage for the scene that's about to unfold.

"What's all this then? Who dares to intrude upon my house at this hour?" I hear a voice say from deeper into the building. His old, bony figure appears from around the corner, and before he can even bring out my name in surprise I slam him against the floor. Savagely attacking his bare body. He makes a gurgling sound as I rip open his throat. Blood, blood is everywhere. It's splattering up against the wall and against the furniture, the very same furniture where mother used to read me stories of the Rakkor tribe, and the same setting where his hands defiled my body, touching my naked skin, and his bare anger moving up in me. One vicious swing slices off his right hand, but he's lost too much blood already to scream, he can only bring out a series of slow, tired sighs. When I leave the house of my childhood his body is barely recognizable by my attack.. There is no day without night, it would be wrong to revere only the sun, and this man is what happens when one only worships one. Unsure of what to do now I descend the mountain of bigotry and false teachings. I have been branded as a heretic, killed my own kin and have lost all that is dear to me.

But such is the price for possessing the truth.

* * *

 **So recently I was reading the comments on this fanfic, and I saw that Diana was mentioned. Now, as a champion I consider Diana broken af (come on she can one shot me when she 0/3 and im 4/1 ?! Okay I should not have gone glasscanon but you get the point), however her backstory is intriguing, and since I'm a sucker for antiheroes I decided to make a one-shot on her. Consider this a bit of angsty filler until I'm done writing the next part in my haunted forest arc.**

 **See you around,**

 **Arms_Of_Sorrow**


	7. Haunted Forest Arc: Giving in to malice

The forest, where it would normally be full of life and noise, had become uncomfortably silent. As if it waiting for the destined clash.

Varus saw him approaching , massive axe in his right hand.

He knew his gear was lacking. He knew his skills were lacking. He knew his plan was lacking.

He knew he was lacking.

Yet, despite this knowledge, he steeled his mind for the battle that was to come, for sentiment had no place on a battlefield.

This was the only way left to deal with the situation. With Darius closing in on him and breaking into a light running motion Varus quickly reviewed the core elements of his (admittedly crude) battle- plan.

Diversion, swiftness and boldness. Those were the three key elements his plan hinged on. His aim was to close in with his dagger, giving off the impression he was going in for a close attack. As soon as he would be barely out of his adversary's reach he would throw the knife and use the small window of time that gave him to grab his bow and move in within a second. All that would be left then (and this was actually the hardest part) was to nimbly dodge the general's strike and let loose two arrows up close, close enough at least to penetrate his cumbersome armor or blow his brain all over the nearest tree.

The archer readied himself. He shifted into a crouched position, his senses sharpened and the edges of his vision blurred. Time itself seemed to slow it's gears as he drew his hunting knife from his pouch and bent his front leg.

He tightened his grip on the knife's hilt, gritted his teeth and then shot off towards his nemesis.

Suddenly everything was happening very quickly.

He veered towards his enemy, judged the distance to be perfect and shot to a halt, using the momentum to throw his knife as hard as he could. All according to plan. After the sudden stop it was hard to regain momentum, but let himself fall down to his knees in a fraction of a second and used his hands to boost himself up into a running position. Darius swat away the knife like a bug and let out an ear shattering battle cry. Completely unfazed Varus closed their gap and drew back his bow, however Darius recovered way quicker than anticipated and let down his axe with a high speed. Varus eyes widened as he felt the edge of its blade graze his kneecap, but he continued to ride the momentum of the battle. He drew his bow back even further and roaring aggressively he let loose two piercing arrows.

…

They missed.

With inhumane reflexes Darius reared his head out of the way and swept Varus to the ground with the hilt of his axe. The archer flew backwards in shock but was able land on his feet. His killer instinct was gone, his ace reflexes were broken, all that remained now was fear. Pure, unparalleled fear. He had no arrows, no weapon, only his hunting net. He grabbed it in desperation and tried to hit Darius with the sharp talons, but the general swung his weapon right through them, hitting Varus's right shoulder and throwing him into the brush. Varus hit a rock. His left shoulder was crushed, his right leg was pulverized and he wasn't able to move his right arm.

He had lost.

His sense of time slowed to a crawl, and sweat was pouring out of veins all over his body as he saw his foe leisurely approach him.

"Dammnit! I'm going to die." he thought. "No, I **am** already dying. My left shoulder is busted, I can't move any of my limbs and I'm bleeding out rapidly."

"Fuck! Goddamnit! Fuck!" He sobbed as he caved in to despair "Why am I so weak? W- why am I- "

" _Is it power you seek?"_ A strange voice from deep within Varus reached his thoughts.

"W- what? My limbs..?!" He stumbled, as he realized he had fallen into a place deep into his unconsciousness.

" _Is it power you seek?"_ The voice cried out again.

Varus felt a warmth at his back and turned around to face a massive levitating purple flame.

"Who..?" He exclaimed.

" _Is it power you seek?"_ Said the voice a third time. Suddenly Varus found himself in the midst of his early teenage years. He saw himself beating in on a training dummy back in the village. Bruised, wounded, but persevering.

" _Or is it revenge?"_

The vision rippled and shifted into his backyard, where he saw the raped figure of his wife in his arms, and his two boys against the wall. Suddenly he realized who was talking to him, and his face turned sour.

"You.. The Darkin?"

" _My race has lived for generations. We are supernatural beings, who only call to those who we deem fit to incarnate in. You have been chosen, Varus of Pallas."_

Varus saw himself touching the flame once again, and his arms throbbed as he saw the flame inhabit his doppelganger.

" _The seal that was put onto you when you were chosen as a Defender of the Pit is withholding me from granting you my full power. But with your natural state as it is it's hard even for me to keep your consciousness here. I need control. You want to win, don't you?"_ Asked the Darkin.

"But.. To attain power.. I don't want to die!" Screamed Varus.

" _Then there is only one thing left for you to do."_ The voice of the Darkin suddenly grew louder and louder as the dimension began to rumble. _"Give me more control over your body, Varus! Give me your mortality and I will grant you the power you need!"_

The entire dimension was quaking, Varus was stumbling from one foot to another.

"I… I" He stuttered. He fell on his knees, and thought of his village, of his suffering. Dark, purplish flames started to envelop his body from everywhere

…

The sun lightly reflected on his serene face, and the leaves were making a rustling sound as the wind carried them down to the ground. He opened his eyes, they shone a dark purplish hue.

"I accept."

…

Darius smirked. Scoring this kill would net him serious prestige as the killer of the Arrow of Retribution, and he would surely be awarded an accolade that contributed even further to his already expansive list of milestones. He couldn't help but feel disappointed though, even though his adversary from a moment ago was in a less than desirable physical state and had no real weaponry to speak off, he couldn't help but feel disappointed with how less of a fight Varus had put up.

"This was the Arrow of Retribution, the one personally responsible for halting our advancement in this province along with that yellow _freak_?" He wailed. "Sigh. How utterly _boorish_."

He blew out some air and whipped up his axe as he approached the rock he had swatted the archer against.

"Well, kid. Time to meet your loved ones in the afterli- huh?!" He exclaimed. A hail of arrows shot at him from Varus position.

"Impossible! You were out of arrows!" He shouted as he charged into the brush. He jumped in only to find Varus jumping onto the rock and shooting three piercing arrows at him from close range. He managed to deflect one but the remaining two pierced his shoulder and blew him back a few meters.

"Hmm.. This power.. I like it.. So that extra arrow I had earlier wasn't a coincidence either." Varus said.

"You… Bastard! What the hell happened to you?" Shouted the general. He lifted his weighty axe and charged Varus's position again, but as soon as he let it down the archer seemed to have disappeared. He quickly noticed that the archer was behind him though, and realized that the archer had simply run past him a millisecond before the axe hit.

"That incredible speed… Are you a devil?" Darius asked, his eyes were brimming with excitement, he undid the buttons that attached his cape to his body armor and threw it aside. Finally! A real battle!

"Hahaha!" Varus laughed. "Very close.." He said. Suddenly he dropped his bow and delivered a bone- crunching knee kick to his foes abdomen. Darius spit out saliva and breath and hunched over, his throat neatly falling into Varus's open hand. The archer squeezed his throat and lifted him with little to no effort. Darius gasped for air.

"This... Absurd…. Power… Where did you-?" He didn't get to finish his sentence, Varus contracted his muscles and slammed the bulky man into the ground with a staggering force, following up with throwing him away onto the wet mud.

"But not quite. And that's because…" continued Varus. He closed their distance and kicked his foe in the side, breaking at least three ribs.

"I can still differentiate between innocent people from scum." He said, as he kicked the Noxian further down the muddy path and picked up his axe (which he had dropped when Varus was lifting him up) in the process. He thought It'd be ironic to finish the ape off with his own toy. He brought the unsightly thing up above his head and was about to finish the downed foe with a quirky "Disappear" when he suddenly felt a bulk of murderous incentive approaching him from.. Above?!

He dropped the weapon, jumped back a at considerable distance and drew his bow. He let loose four arrows and watched them get destroyed by four knives perfectly thrown at them at high speed.

The cloud of dust settled to reveal a busty Noxian redhead with a vibrant scar on her left eye.

"Katarina!" Shouted Darius. "Don't interfere!"

"And let one of our most influential generals be killed off by a _nobody_? I don't think so. Stop stroking your massive ego."

The Noxian groaned. "Fine. But I get to finish him off!" He grumbled as he climbed back on his feet.

"Ugh.. Fine. Men and their stubbornness."

Varus was in a pinch, and he knew it. The scales had been tipped again completely. Drops of sweat began to form on his forehead.

" _You can't defeat them as you are now, the power I have given you for now is running out. It needs to recharge."_

Varus gritted. "Damnit. The only option that remains now is.."

He extended his gaze to a place that he had somehow not noticed before. A clearing in the scenery that led to an entirely different forest far below it.

"Run!" He thought, and while dropping his bow and every ounce of fighting lust he had he ran his lungs out and jumped into the unknown, barely dodging a dagger meant to take his head.

Somehow, he had escaped.


	8. Diana's Journey pt 2: Pursuit

In the hours that had passed after that faithful clash that night Diana had boldly ascended the great mountain. Her silky- smooth silvery hair flurried behind back as the wind surged past her heated body. Her escape took her down the rocky bedrock, past the dark crevices and over the little sprouts of moisturized grass sprouting from the spaces between the rock formation. Every firm step she took was another step distancing herself from the mountain, from her people, from her past. The day had almost reached its mid-day mark when the Moon's Scorn encountered one of the groups of travelling nomads populated Mt. Targon's foot. Over the centuries they had lost contact with the Rakkor, who had taken to living in the ruins of an ancient civilization and mastering their craft of war rather than live off trading with the surrounding kingdoms. In fact, there had always been a certain misplaced condescending prejudice from the warrior's to their nomad cousins' peaceful ways, and that clearly didn't help in maintaining friendly relationships either. One of the effects that had was that the two kinds of settlers had developed distinct differences in their culture and overall view on life, it was because of this that Diana was able to seek temporary refuge with them until she was ready to set out again. She had been staying with the initial tribe she met for two weeks now, which was way too long in her opinion. She had no problems with making use of the To- Rath's (as the tribesmen called themselves) hospitality, as they were quite intrigued to hear of the Solari and their customs, neither was it that she was scared of any pursuing avengers, no, the reason for her delayed departure was completely unknown to her and it annoyed her to no end.

It was the end of a cold fortnight's evening as Diana stepped outside her tent to clear her mind. Ever since that night she'd had strange dreams, visions, that depicted her on the very peak of the mountain together with a boy of what she could only describe of otherworldly origins. His entire body was radiant, as if lit by divine fire. Aflame yet.. Serene.. And with eyes that were as deep as the universe itself. Every time her unconsciousness brought her here it would play out the same. The sun and the moon would arise together as the boy extended his hand in her direction, and she would approach it and let it rest on her brand. Then the sky and the earth would explode in a thousand colors and the vision would end. This repeated image mystified her, and she had spent many nights trying to discover its purpose. But not tonight. She'd had enough of her restless mind. Taking a breath of the chilly air she leisurely let the end of the tanned leather hide )that served as an opening to her tent) slip out of her hand and hunched over to pick up her scythe. Once again the ivory moonlight coated it's crimson blade in a shimmering glaze, truly a sight to behold.

On her way out she passed the two armed tribesmen charged with keeping watch and casually wandered around the mountains edges. It wasn't very long until the camp had escaped her field of vision. Suddenly the air thickened with tension. She warily grabbed her scythe and focused on the sounds of the wilds. This scent, this irregular rustling of the leaves, this unnatural disturbance, it was unlike any animal. No, there was no mistaking it.

"Moonlight illuminate!" She exclaimed as a ray of lunar energy lit up the area per her command.

The stage was set, the cards had been played, there was no point in hiding anymore, and both parties knew it. Not even a second expired before three cloaked figures, kitted out with small bucklers and gilded scimitars jumped out of the scenery and charged Diana's position. Instantly reacting on her attackers she tried to distance herself from their weapons reach and swung her crescent back. They were faster than she expected though, and closed their gap swiftly. She parried the lunge meant to take her head and ducked, shifting her weight to her abdomen for more power behind her strikes. The initial attack was quickly followed by others, but she deflected whatever swing came her way. She calmly assessed each of their abilities with every strike and adapted to their rhythm. Bit by bit, every growing second, the scales of battle tipped ever more in her favor. Her slashes and footwork a prayer to the moon itself. She danced for her Goddess.

The four combatants continued like this for a good seven minutes until Diana spotted lights coming from the way she came from. A shocking thought reached her mind.

"You! How callous can you be! These people have done nothing wrong!"

Her head filled itself with rage as she screamed and threw herself at them again. She caught the nearest attacker in her crescent and threw him against the ground. In came a frontal downwards swing, but it missed his mark. Her elbow hit the warrior's chin with great force and sent him flying too, but she wasn't stopping there. Realizing the status quo she steeled her mind, knowing that she had to resolve this fight quickly. It was time for a tactical play.

Two more attacks were incoming. One from the upper-right and one from the left. Rather than parrying it she bend her knees and flexed her muscles. Then, as they were about to hit, she shot forward and breezed right past them. Sakura pink leaves danced in her wake as she turned around on her pivot leg and unleashed the full extent of her lunar powers. By-passing nomads that day would later report seeing a burst of silvery white rays explode from a point in the forest and shoot towards a point further up the mountain, leaving an ever-growing trail of trees and other forestation in its destructive wake.

Diana had never run any harder in her life, and she didn't know why. Maybe it was because she felt responsible for bringing death and destruction upon the only people that had ever greeted her approaching figure with warmth and hospitality, maybe it was because she longed to face a warrior in battle again, and add his death to her rapidly increasing list of kills. She didn't know. What she did know that whatever battle she was fighting for now, be it a battle for revenge or protection, she was losing it. As she soared towards the encampment she noticed an approaching bulk of warriors descending the mountain, and another one right in front of her, near the forests edge. So that's what this was, a collective effort to take out the one rogue divergent that walked Targon's foot. But why did the mountain tribes agree to set aside their petty squabble and chase her down? Was the Solari influence that great? She scoffed at the irony of it all.

"Human minds are so coruptible."

She redoubled her effort and increased her speed significantly. The three rear guards of the nearest troop could only witness a white flash before they were overtaken and disposed of. Diana swung her crescent around violently and struggled to maintain both the power in maintaining her speed and behind her did help that the unexpected rear attack caused temporary dissaray amongst the Rakkor ranks. Most warriors initially didn't even have time to turn around and faced an gloryless death, the whole formation buckled under the might of the Moon's Scorn.

However, they had quite a few men amongst their ranks who were blessed with a quick train of thoughts and the capability to lead, and as a result the front of the group slowly began to disperse and reform into a crescent formation around Diana. Her charge was severely weakened by now, it was pointless to continue by now. She made sure to score whatever kills she still could and then burst forward through an open spot in their formation. Leaving them behind her in a cloud of dust.

In hindsight this was probably the most important action of the night from a tactician's standpoint. With her savage attack Diana had both taken out a large number of enemies and simultaneously diverted their attention away from the village. The following hours were filled with sudden guerilla strikes from Diana and the Rakkor fanning out and in hot pursuit.

The part of the forest Diana was in had somehow caught on fire earlier during a clash of one of her moonbeams and a bout of fire from one of the specialized tracker warriors' bombs. The explosion threw the unfortunate sod backwards and temporarily separated the two forces, a chance she welcomed with open arms.

The effects of her battle- fatigue started to kick in, and there were still a lot of enemy forces in the woods. She came to the realization that this was not a battle she could win by pure force alone.

Her hit- and run tactics had allowed a considerable number of To - Rath to flee the forest, but she knew that there were still a few nomads traversing the forest. Mustering up ample of strength she took a breath and shot out a plethora of silvery lunar blasts and then fled the scene again.

She wasn't able to save them all.

With focusing all of her effort on speed she sacrificed her offensive capabilities, making the groups of Rakkor searching the forest a lot more dangerous. Sometimes she couldn't reach them because a band of warriors was in her way.

When most of the remaining nomads had either been taken to safety or perished Diana started making her way to the forests edge. She had had a night of gruelling battle, and the sun was setting, dwindling her chances in battle. She was just about to reach the outside when she was cut off by the regrouped warriors. Not many of them were left, and their morale had wavered immensely. The Moon's Scorn raised her crescent and prepared herself. This was the last push. The last battle. She only needed to see it through. She wasn't going to die here.

"You dare challenge the inheritant of the Lunari's Will? Come at me then!"

The forest's very roots shook when the two forces met.


End file.
